The Dancing Flames
by mademoiselle mask
Summary: This story begins as Erik takes leave of his mother's home. I won't go into to much detail but basically it's Erik's first encounter with love, before he meets Christine. Chapter one is finished. Please R&R!


Author's note: to whom it my concern, I admit that I do not own any of the material pertaining to the original phantom of the opera novel, the musical, or any other phantom of the opera thing. But I do claim ownership to the original characters created for the purpose of this story. If you have any problems or complaints with my story (you find it offensive, you claim I stole your work etc) please don't hesitate to contact me, but I probably will just ignore it. Thank you for your time and please review this story for me. I'm still new at this and criticisms are welcome! I really do appreciate them. Please excuse any grammar mistakes you find (I'm sure you won't hesitate to point them out). What can I say? I just felt that the desks in English class were the most comfortable and chose to sleep through that class. A poor choice in retrospect. Well enjoy Chapter One! Drama Freak (PS. Aren't you proud of me Cherry?)

The moon showed through the crystal windows giving the room a soft glow. The boy fumbled with the crucifix he had found lying on the ground. He didn't know why he was here. Maybe it was the beautiful organ to the right of the altar. Or maybe it was because here, he could almost hear the choir singing softly to him. Or maybe he felt that here, and only here, could God hear him. He had been told "God loves all things." It seemed that God would be the only one who would ever love him. But God hadn't seen him. God must not have known. No, God did know. And He didn't love him. Only a cruel god would leave him alone like this. And that night that boy realized he would forever be alone.

"Get up you wretched thing! You lazy monster!" He sat up blurry eyed yawning. He blinked a couple times, and looked up to see a ragged sickly woman hovering over him. Her cruel stare quickly turned into an expression of pure terror. Her scream nearly shattered the windows. "HOW DARE YOU! You sniveling worthless brat! How dare you show me your wretched face!" she screamed at him, at an inhuman pitch. She grabbed a mask from the floor and threw it at him, coming very close to putting out his left eye out. The boy slowly donned his mask. He didn't cry like he did when he was little. No, he would never shed another tear of sadness for this woman. All he felt for her was loathing and hate.

The sun was climbing high; he must have slept through half the morning. Another scream issued from downstairs. He laughed lightly. _Seems that mother's found the little present I left her_. He hurried downstairs and, while his mother was distracted, he quickly collected the mail. It wasn't as if he expected there to be any mail for him, it was just a casual distraction from the day. But there was something different about the mail today. An unusual letter from a person he had never heard of before.  
Glancing behind him to make sure his mother was no where near; he quickly sliced open the letter. As the piece of paper unfolded out slid a plain white pamphlet. He retrieved it from the floor and read the cover: _St. Mark's School for Mentally Disabled Children_. His grip tightened on the paper. He glanced at the letter that came with it, which was still clutched in his right hand. It read simply:  
_Think about it Madeline_. 

Slowly his breath became uneven. He started shaking from head to foot. _This can't be real. No! I won't believe it..._He tore up to his attic bedroom and slammed the door with such force that the whole house seemed to shake with furry and anguish along with him.

It had been dark for nearly four hours now. The woman's slow rhythmic breathing could be heard softly next in the next room. She had been asleep for quite some time he knew it. He would take his leave now. He threw a cloak over his shoulders and departed from his little room. Silently he made his way downstairs. His hand griped the cold knob of the door and he inhaled sharply. He glanced around the room one last time. There, lying in the corner, was his mask where it had fallen in his rage the morning before. Slowly he knelt down to retrieve it. His eyes hardened at the sight of it. Carelessly he tossed it into the smoldering embers left in the hearth. The sudden wind caused by this action cause flames to shoot up and engulf the mask. He stood to watch it for a moment, the flames reflected in his eyes, the seemed to dance before him. He suddenly turned on his heal, sweeping up his cloak and vanishing through the open door without a sound.

Author's Other Note: Well how did you like chapter one? Please tell me. I'd like to know how it went over and if I should even bother with continuing it. If you have any suggestions as to how you would like to see the story go, I'm open. But please, if you submit an idea don't be hurt if I don't use it, and please, don't yell at me if I use it and claim I stole your work or anything! Thanx! Drama Freak


End file.
